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Updated: April 30, 2025
That voyage did come to an end much sooner than he or the tyrannical captain expected! One evening our hero stood near the binnacle talking to the steersman, a sturdy middle-aged sailor, whose breadth appeared to be nearly equal to his length. "Tom Riggles," said Bill, somewhat abruptly, "we're goin' to have dirty weather."
He's a good-hearted fellow is Tom, though I fear he'll never come to much good. Believe me, your affectionate son, SAM. RIGGLES." "There," said Tom, folding up the letter; "what d'ye think o' that, mates?"
"You've no cause to complain neither of ye," said Tom Riggles, whose left hand was tied up and in a sling, "for you've lost nothin' but a little blood an' a bit o' skin, whereas I've lost the small finger o' my right hand."
Thus was William Bowls impressed into the Royal Navy. On hearing that his old shipmate had been caught, Tom Riggles at once volunteered into the service, and they were both sent on board a man-of-war, and carried off to fight the battles of their country. At the time of which we write, England's battles and troubles were crowding pretty thick upon one another.
In this he was only partially successful. "Surely," said Bill Bowls to his friend Ben Bolter, with whom he was stationed at one of the starboard guns on the main deck, "surely we are near enough now to give 'em a shot." "No, we ain't," said Tom Riggles, who was also stationed at the same gun; "an' depend on it Cap'n Ward is not the man to throw away his shot for nothin'."
Among others, our friends Bill Bowls, Ben Bolter, and Tom Riggles, were sent on board the Majestic, a seventy-four gun ship of the line, commanded by Captain Westcott, one of England's most noted captains. This vessel, with ten line-of-battle ships, set sail to join Nelson, and assist him in the difficult duty of watching the French fleet.
"I knows her by hearsay from Nelly Blyth, but not bein' a native of Fairway, of course I don't know much about the people. Hallo! Riggles, what's wrong with 'e to-day?" said Bill, as his friend Tom came towards him with a very perplexed expression on his honest face, "not repenting of havin' joined the sarvice already, I hope?"
The night after the action Bill Bowls, Ben Bolter, and Tom Riggles sat down on the heel of the bowsprit to have a chat. "Not badly hit?" asked Ben of Bill, who was examining the bandage on his left arm. "Nothin' to speak of," said Bill; "only a scratch. I'm lucky to have got off with so little; but I say, Ben, how does your head feel? That Mounseer had a handy way o' usin' the handspike.
The waves had just cast him there, and another towering billow approached, which would infallibly have washed him away, had not Bill rushed forward and dragged him out of danger. It proved to be his friend Tom Riggles.
He rubbed a little of the salve on the end of the dog, and a noo tail grow'd on next mornin'!" "Gammon!" ejaculated Tom Riggles. "True, I assure ye, as was proved by the fact that he afterwards rubbed a little of the salve on the end of the tail, and a noo dog growed on it in less than a week!" "H'm!
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